Scratching his head, Elliot shuffled up to the stage. "Fred? What's going on? What is that thing?"
She patted the instrument affectionately. My new best friend, she thought. "The little guy is 'The Tormentor'. It's a gift from the Guild," she called out. "With it, we shall finally reach our victory. Richie, TK, block the exits. We can't let Angel leave."
The men blinked, and casting glances at the pale figure beside them, moved over to the gym doors. Emily did not shift.
The rest of the Battlefront wove through the crowd to stand beside Elliot.
Albert eyed the machine skeptically. "All that, huh? Tell me, just what does this contraption do?"
Winnie twirled the microphone chord between her fingers. "I was hoping someone would ask. Let me tell you how this diamond works." She withdrew Asher's card from her pocket.
"'The Tormentor functions by creating perpetual, disabilitating agony. The victim is subject to prolonged, continuous physical damage, and crippling pain. First, violence is taken in by the machine's receptors.
Fred reached into the machine's mesh, and flicked a switch. Everyone jumped back as the tentacles began to writhe, and then suddenly exploded outward. The metal appendages extended, snaking away until they were within arm's length of the rebels. As their motion stopped, a foggy, glowing sphere appeared at the conclusion of each arm. The Battlefront members watched the orbs, the artificial light revealing the fear on their faces.
"The operators of the machine must first store energy in the machine, by unleashing violence onto the receptors. Gunshots, bladed attack, brute force- any form of pain creation will work," Fred explained. "The machine will store the attacks. An enemy is locked onto, and then targeted.
"The stored energy is realized. Using revolutionary new methods, every scream of violence is drawn around the enemy, smothering them. The Tormentor locks onto the target, and distributes the violence perpetually. A gunshot, then a few seconds later a kick to the chest, then a few seconds later a stab wound. In this way, the enemy is kept in perpetual, crippling pain, such that they are unable to function."
The Battlefront was silent. "And… the Guild made that, you say?" Albert stuttered.
Winnie looked up, her face gleaming. "Isn't it amazing? Those guys have really done their duty. They must have gotten the idea from how the Fallen Angels kept our Angel under wraps. Can you believe it? After all this time, we finally have something that will work against God's monster. We can stop her forever." I did it, guys, Fred breathed. I promised I wouldn't fail you. We've done it.
Her friends were silent. Faces frozen, they simply stared at the orbs in front of them. Emily still hadn't moved. She wasn't even looking up at Fred; instead she had glided over to the cage. As they watched, she began to try to turn the colossus onto its side.
Fred batted away a tick of annoyance as she gestured to the spheres. "Guys. It's all set up, come on. All you have to do is just attack those spheres, give them everything you've got. I'll handle the rest."
There was a flicker of motion. Hannah stormed up to one of the groping tentacles, her face a stone. The air whistled as her blade cut through the air.
There was a click. The sphere turned bright red as Hannah's lightning fast jabs rained down on it. Fred heard a hum beside her, and saw the machine beginning to shake. At the very end of the barrel, she could make out a red light, gradually growing larger. "Excellent!" The Battlefront leader called out. "Come on, get going!"
But no one else had moved. "Did you say… perpetual agony?" Irie finally spoke.
"Doesn't that mean… that she'll be in pain, all the time?" Luke added, his suit soaked with spilled punch.
"Angelic species or not," Leonard muttered softly, "the effects of the trauma on her mental state would be catastrophic. Within hours, I would think she'd be-"
"Why does any of this matter?" Fred growled, her hands clenching. "You're all forgetting just what this creature is. She's a monster, for goodness sake. Her mind is full of demons! And let's not forget the most important thing, she's God's servant. She's how we can get back at him!"
"Hang on," another voice spoke up. Emmanuel put his hands in his pockets; he was still steps from the cage. "Angel just saved my butt from getting skewered. I don't know much, but I'd say we're probably wrong about the demons."
Beside him, Emily finished overturning the cage. Her brow narrowing, she stepped closer to Mike.
"He's right!" Albert suddenly shouted. "I've worked with her for days planning this party, and she hasn't stabbed a single person. I don't think the Fallen control her after all."
Fred grit her teeth. Albert too? Just how many people have turned against me? How many were like Mike… how many have lied to me?
"You're all missing the point! This is our opportunity! Why does it matter whether or not she's a demon, or an angel? Both are our enemies! And now, at this moment, we have the chance to defeat her forever. And then, we'll have no one between us, and the Father.
She saw a shadow pass over Elliot's face; she could tell how much he wanted it.
"I think you're right, it doesn't matter if she's an angel or demon," Luke's small voice suddenly spoke up. His head hung, and he looked up at his leader shyly. "I don't think anyone deserves a fate like that. Angel's done a lot to us. But I don't think we should punish her."
Around him, the others were silent, but she could see their response in their eyes. Across the room, Angel finished freeing Mike from the spike. Emmanuel helped her carefully lay him on the ground.
Shock waves of fury rolled off of Fred. She couldn't believe it. They could win. But she'd lost control, over her own army. She knew she was right, if she could just get them to see it, just get them to do what had to be done…
A whine drew her attention. The red light at the barrel of the Tormenter had grown, fed by Hannah's constant, frenzied blows. Well. Maybe this would be enough.
Fred was just stooping to the machine when she heard a tremor on the stage. Her gaze snapped up, and relief washed over her.
Jess finished hauling herself onto the stage, and began to walk towards the machine. She had pulled her handgun out of her dress, and it lay waiting in her palm. Finally, someone Fred could rely on for a little righteous aggression.
Jess strolled up to the Tormentor, and unloaded six shots into the instrument.
Wires and circuits screamed in pain, bent metal popped and cracked as Winnie stumbled back in horror. With a keening whine, the spheres became dull, and the tentacles dropped to the ground like the legs of a squished spider. The machine frothed sparks, gave a final shudder, and ground to a halt.
"This world is f***ing full of ugliness," Jess muttered. She glared out at the audience, unable to hide the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I won't let cruelty create any more."
The Battlefront members watched the figures on the stage in awe. Fred stumbled backwards.
Turning, the Battlefront's leader slipped of the stage. Her face had become a motionless mask.
After a few more moments, the NPC's began to move again. "Whoa, wicked!" one called. "Nice special effects!"
The Battlefront had deflated. The soldiers glanced at each other, uncertain.
"So, we just wouldn't do this one thing, right?" Luke asked, looking around. "I mean, we're still the Battlefront!"
Hannah was motionless. The lights shifted, and in the next instant she was gone.
From beside Luke, Elly nodded. The other members of the distraction and combat divisions crowded around the senior member, staring at him anxiously. "Indeed. Angel… I mean, she's only one aspect of our operations. Our primary objectives are to avoid obliteration by subservience to the rules, and to force the creator to face justice. This, this hasn't changed."
Kate crossed her arms. "I guess so. We just need to get Fred to calm down. We should send someone to talk to her. And Jess…" The bassist trailed off, and glanced around curiously. "Hold on, where'd Jess go? She was on stage literally a second ago!"
Everyone else turned to look around the reviving dance floor, but it was useless. Jess simply wasn't there.
In the middle of the crowd, Albert's eyes widened.
Osiris was motionless. Only his fingers moved, tapping the desk as he watched every screen around him show the same image: the destruction of his instrument. So, the intervention had failed.
It was too late. The virus had taken root in his master's world; its tentacles were evident in every one of the humans' actions. This world was compromised.
Osiris's mouth drew into a line. It was regrettable.
Impressed upon his programming was the fundamental fact of how undesirable it was to alter this world; he was intended to exist as a supervisor.
But there was simply was no choice. Not if he was to defend against his creator's greatest enemy.
To eradicate the virus utterly, this world would have to purged, refined through fire. It was necessary. With steady steps, Osiris strode to a small box set amid the screens. Flipping it open, he examined the contents.
"Forced System Reset," read a small red button. Osiris pressed it into the metal. There was a shudder.
In the cavern behind Osiris, the flame-chains around Ammit flashed to life. The creature roared in fury as the flames circled his neck, seeking, reading, then uploading the creation.
All around Osiris, screens blinked, switching camera images to display screens, flashing through menus, loading and uploading. He watched, emotionless, as the process finally reached its close. As one, the screens all arrived at the same message.
"System Reset has begun. Forced removal of other consciousnesses initiated."
Far above the tunnels, students wandered back to their dorms, partied out.
"Come on, Megan," a young girl called, yawning back at her friend. "No stopping. Let's get going, I just want to crash."
The girl paused. Their other friends had left them; they stood alone on the night path. She frowned, stepping back to her friend. "Megan?"
Megan's eyes did not see. She swayed, silent.
Suddenly, her mouth abruptly snapped open, and slime spewed forth like a worm. With barely a shake, the NPC's form dissolved into cascades of rippling shadow.
The friend stepped back. A figure was solidifying where Megan had stood, a twitching tower of slime.
The youth tried to scream, but her breath caught. All she could feel was the rush, of something climbing up her throat.